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Emo shoes

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Good thing I wore my Emo Shoes (complete with– wait for it– broken pink hearts!) today, because it was definitely the lamest Monday I’ve had in awhile, and this is counting the recent illness/head cold business. Had a meeting with the boss (yes, even in our “non-hierarchical” office, there is a boss), and talked about the numbers. Numbers that I was 100% convinced I had met, convinced I had done a good job. I was not nervous about this meeting, thinking that I had satisfied what was asked of me (that I grow our participant database about 20% in a three-month span, using my own marketing genius and whatever resources I asked for). What I realized, though, thanks to a reminder from the boss…was that I was about 100 people short. Totally something I should have known, and something that I did know– until my mind got stuck on this one number, and led to me sitting there at the end of this meeting, willing myself not to cry because, seriously, I am a Goddamn Adult.

Something I have to say about my job is that I probably didn’t know what I was getting into, when I first started. This is true for probably about 98% of jobs– you never really know until you’ve been there awhile what you are truly expected to do. I would like to think that I am in a special situation, that it was a little unclear in the beginning of my time there just how much and what I would be expected to do. Because, seriously? I have a BA in English. I can write one hell of a paper, I understand shades of meaning like nobody’s business, and I can craft metaphors that would make you gasp with their accuracy. I cannot, however, devise successful marketing plans. I am not what we would called skilled in enticement, and I cannot think of catch-phrase-y, gimmicky things that will draw people like fat kids to a pie-eating contest. That is not my expertise, and I have never presented any illusions that it was. I am ok with certain expectations that go along with my job, but not so agreeable to certain others. I am willing to work, and work hard. I just hate when effort is rewarded with so little, and I hate that I never even had a chance to be the Golden Child of the office. Right now I am doing the work of one and a half people, at least, and earning what I imagine a full-time barista at Starbucks does.

This is rant-y, and I apologize for being so complain-y, but you know what? Days like today make me really glad I’m going back to school, where expectations are laid out in syllabi, and those in charge of me only get to be so for a semester at a time. I’m glad that, someday, I will get to be a librarian, and at least have to be dealing with problems that I’m qualified (and prepared, ideally, to a certain extent) to deal with.